


between the lines

by inlovewithnight



Series: Pretty [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Cock & Ball Torture, Face Slapping, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then Worlds happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	between the lines

Aaron turns up at Geno’s door drunk off his ass, which probably isn’t a good idea, but being able to tell good ideas from bad ideas went out the window hours ago. Right after the buzzer, actually, all ability to use discretion and common sense just shut the fuck down.

The ceremony was a really awesome thing; standing with the guys, singing the anthem, feeling the weight of the medal around his neck. He’d won a lot of medals already in his life, it wasn’t anything _new_ , but this one he’d won as a _pro_. He won it playing with Croz and Giroux and Seguin and everybody. This was for real. The big leagues.

He didn’t notice the Russians leaving the ice; he didn’t even think about it at all until later, when people started splitting off from the group to go somewhere private together. Once Aaron noticed that happening, he started noticing that his dick was in the mood to party, too. He felt _good_ , all over. 

Segs was grinning at him a lot, and touching him a lot, and that totally could’ve happened if Aaron had gone for it. It _so_ could’ve happened. When the Panthers lost to the Stars during the season, Aaron had gone to Benn, a couple of times, and from that he could probably extrapolate what Segs would like. It would’ve been fun.

But he had a collar in his bag and a promise in his head that said otherwise, so he told Segs goodnight and went over to where the Russian team was rooming.

Over there it was quiet. Some of the guys were already leaving, carrying heavy duffel bags and shooting Aaron nasty looks as they passed him. He kept his mouth shut, some survival instinct kicking in through the beer, just nodding to them and continuing on his way.

Geno had texted him when they both arrived in the Czech Republic, telling him his room number but also that they probably shouldn’t see each other until the games were over unless something major happened. 

_Major like what?_ Aaron had asked.

Geno’s answer had been immediate, and Aaron could just picture his grin as he typed it. _Canada getting knocked out in 2 rounds, pretty. You sad, I make you feel better._

Well, it hadn’t gone that way. But maybe Aaron could make Geno feel better instead.

He knocked on the door, leaning against the frame as his head swirled a little. “Geno? Hey. Geno. It’s me. Open up.”

There was silence, so Aaron hit the door again. “Geno. It’s me. Aaron. Pretty. You know. Your… your guy. Open the door. C’mon.”

Still nothing. Aaron kicked the door this time, just in case the problem was that he wasn’t being loud enough. “I know you’re probably bummed about the game. I wanna make you feel better about it. C’mon. Just open up and I’ll…”

The door finally opened and Geno stood there, staring at him. Aaron immediately shut up, because Geno was shirtless and wet from the shower and also looked _super_ annoyed.

“Ekblad,” Geno said, very deliberately. “Stop fucking yelling.”

“Sorry.”

“Guys are sleeping. Or packing to go home. And maybe don’t know that I’m fucking the enemy. Yeah?”

Aaron frowned. “Enemy’s a little harsh. The game’s over now.”

Geno exhaled slowly and stepped back. “Come in. And no yelling.”

Aaron followed him inside, closing the door carefully behind him and throwing the lock, then stripping out of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Geno sat down on the bed and sighed again. “Stop that.”

“I’m gonna cheer you up, okay? Make you feel better.”

“Not really in the mood.”

Aaron grinned at him. “I can get you there, I bet. Got anything to drink?”

Geno’s eyes flicked to the minibar in the corner, and Aaron headed for it, leaving his jersey behind him on the floor.

“Pretty…” Geno stopped as Aaron pulled a bottle of vodka out. He couldn’t read the label at all, but it had to be good stuff or they wouldn’t stock the rooms with it. “Pretty, no.”

“I know you’re sad. I know it sucks. I’m not gonna, like, brag or whatever.” Aaron twisted the lid off and took a long swallow, then moved back to the bed, holding the bottle out like a peace offering. “We don’t have to talk about the game at all. We don’t have to talk about hockey. You can pretend I’m some guy you picked up on a corner.”

Geno almost smiled. He did take the bottle, so Aaron knew he was winning ground. “You hang out on lots of corners?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe Seguin show you.”

Aaron laughed. “Exactly. You got it all figured out.”

“Huh.” Geno took a long drink of vodka and closed his eyes. “Feel like a used-up old man.”

“Not even close.”

“Played like one.”

“No, you didn’t.” Aaron got down on his knees, leaning against Geno’s legs and looking up at him. “And we’re not talking about that anymore. We’re just gonna relax and have fun. And I’m gonna blow you. It’ll be great.”

Geno looked at him in silence for a moment, then took another drink. He’d stopped smiling, his eyes going dark and thoughtful. Aaron shivered happily, anticipation cutting through the alcohol in his bloodstream. This was going to be awesome. He could tell.

“Maybe I don’t want to have fun,” Geno said. “Maybe I want to play rough.”

Aaron licked his lips and reached for the bottle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Geno deliberately set the bottle out of reach, then ran his hand over Aaron’s head. “I think that’s what I want.” He clenched his fingers, twisting Aaron’s hair into a painful grip. “Problem with that?”

Aaron tried to shake his head, but Geno was holding him too tightly. He hadn’t had enough to drink to be feeling no pain; it definitely hurt to have Geno pulling at his hair. But it hurt in a good way, a way that made him want to pull against it and groan.

“Answer question,” Geno said, shaking him like a toy. “Or we have trouble.”

“No problem with that.” Aaron looked up at him, his eyes threatening to tear at the pressure on his scalp. “I’m ready.”

“Good boy.” Geno let go of him and turned to the bottle again, and Aaron caught himself on his forearms before he ended up on the floor. “Clothes off.”

Aaron stripped down and waited, settling himself on his knees and putting his hands behind his back. Usually Geno liked that, him looking all submissive and waiting, maybe with his head bowed or his eyes closed. Really surrendered. He didn’t _feel_ submissive right now, he felt eager to jump all over Geno’s body, but he would wait and put on a show for as long as Geno wanted.

He heard the soft swish of the vodka, then a clink as Geno set the bottle down again. “No, not like that. Stand up.”

Aaron got to his feet, letting his hands fall to his side, and turned to look at Geno, opening his mouth to ask a question. Before he could form the words, though, Geno hit him in the face. It was an easy backhand, not much power behind it, a warm-up shot. Nothing like what Geno could do if he wanted.

Aaron rocked with the impact, sucking in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

Geno studied him for a minute, his face blank, then grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him close and punching him solidly in the chest. The air rushed out of Aaron’s lungs and his vision grayed around the edges, Geno easily holding him up as he scrambled for balance.

“Too hard?” Geno asked, his voice low and rumbling. “Or more like that?”

Aaron shook his head, dragging in a painful breath. “Too hard.”

“Okay.” Geno caught his other shoulder and propelled him toward the bed, the edge of the mattress catching him across the thighs and dropping him face-down, his legs sprawled behind him, just touching the floor. He fought for breath again as Geno’s hands moved down his back, tracing his spine, brushing over a game bruise, and finally settling on his ass. Aaron turned his head, trying to see, and just had time to brace himself before Geno hit the back of his thighs with a solid slap.

“Don’t have to stand up,” Geno said. “Just take it. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, shifting his feet to brace himself better. “I gotta get on a plane tomorrow. Not gonna be able to sit down.”

“Can sit, just not still.” Geno hit him again, the other side this time, so matching patches of pain burned on Aaron’s legs. “What’s the word, moving around all the time.”

“Squirming?”

“Yes.” Geno rubbed his palm over the reddened skin. “Squirming around.” 

The next hit was solidly across Aaron’s ass, and he sucked air in through clenched teeth, the impact grinding his dick against the mattress.

“Can’t fucking win,” Geno muttered, hitting him again, finding a rhythm. He moved from the ass to the thighs and back up again, covering the skin, merging the red, painful patches with each other. “All summer, you know? Thinking about it. Hearing about it. Go home, see my family, they don’t ask but everybody else will. So many questions. I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s all fucked up. You know?”

Aaron tried to answer, or at least affirm that he’d heard, but all he could manage was a thin, desperate half-sob against the blankets. He felt Geno check himself, then Geno’s hand settling on his back between his shoulder blades, rubbing in a slow circle. 

“Won’t see you,” Geno said, his voice lower. “Think about you, though.”

Aaron nodded, turning his head again to look back at him. Geno’s face was still expressionless, his eyes unreadable, but his hand on Aaron’s back stayed gentle, guiding him through slow, gulping breaths. 

“Next year…” Geno trailed off, looking away for a moment. Aaron shifted himself more up on his elbows, and Geno let him move, the weight of his hand easing and then moving, sliding down his back again, making its way over the curve of his ass and down between his legs. Aaron closed his eyes as Geno’s fingers ran over his opening, his perineum, his balls, blunt and impersonal.

“You miss me, pretty?”

Aaron wasn’t sure if he meant in the past or in the future, but he nodded, because the answer was the same either way. “Yes.”

Geno’s hand closed around his balls and squeezed, hard and steady, until Aaron rocked forward on his toes and cried out helplessly into the blankets.

“One more,” Geno said, rubbing his thumb roughly over the hot skin of Aaron’s dick, pressing down just hard enough to make Aaron’s knees shake. “So good, pretty. Let me make you hurt one more time.”

Aaron nodded, jerky and helpless, his vision dark and blurred, and dug his fingers down into the bedding as Geno squeezed again. God, it hurt, it hurt so bad he thought he might die, but it was Geno’s hand on him, he could take it for Geno. He could do this. He pressed his face to the fabric and yelled again, the sound catching and going ragged in his throat.

Geno’s hand moved away and Aaron let himself collapse, the last of the tension holding his body up evaporating. “Fuck,” he sobbed, “fuck, fuck.”

“Easy.” Geno’s body settled over his, warm and close but not quite pinning him down. “Breathe, pretty. Just breathe. Got you.”

Aaron tried to turn over, and after a false start or two Geno helped him, easing him onto his back and then positioning himself over him again, his face an inch from Aaron’s. Aaron blinked, trying to clear his vision enough to look into Geno’s eyes.

“Breathe,” Geno said again, shifting to brace himself on one hand and brushing Aaron’s hair off his forehead with the other. “Maybe too much for game day.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron whispered. 

“Sleep the whole way back, yeah?”

Aaron nodded, managing a weak smile. “You?”

“Maybe.” Geno eased away and lay down next to him, resting his hand carefully on Aaron’s chest. “Thanks for letting me.”

“Any time. Like… really. Any time.” Talking hurt. Aaron let his eyes close again. 

“Better next year,” Geno said, so softly Aaron almost couldn’t hear it. 

He covered Geno’s hand with his and they lay there in silence for a while. Aaron slipped his fingers between Geno’s, weaving them together, and thought about the summer ahead. Summers were always different, a little unreal, until the season came around again. He didn’t have to ask to know that Geno felt the same.


End file.
